The Chronicles of David Woeth, Vol 1, Pt 1, Chapter 1
by Woeth1215
Summary: A fantasy trilogy set in a world of my own creation, one of political intrigue, war, and redemption in which 'pokemon,' re-imagined, play a periphery role. Sir David Woeth has returned to the kingdom of Vvarden Mour for what appears to be a royal visit from the neighboring kingdom, but he quickly learns that things aren't as they seem.


Part One

The Red Phantom

Chapter One

The Ice Palace

Through the thick sheets of snow and falling ice, David could see the Ice Palace of Hygore in the distance. He glanced down and below stretched miles of tundra with snow-peaked mountains. The Ice Palace was a brilliant sight of white, crystalline spires that pierced the heavens and its keep rounded up the side of the mountain in eight separate layers like a wedding cake of ice and stone.

"Start your descent, Salamence," he told the blue scaled dragon. The dragon roared in response and began to descend, its red wings glistening from the frost. Its long, serpentine neck was smooth up to its head. Its brow was lined with crimson horns. They landed on the edge of the first battlement. Two men were standing beside the portcullis with spears and clad in white, shining armor with blue plumes rising from their helms and fur cloaks around them. A massive brown Piloswine stood in the center of them with its white tusks rearing.

David climbed off the dragon and removed a red stone from his necklace. He held the stone out towards the dragon. "Salamence, return," he said. The dragon burst into red light that was absorbed by the stone. He placed the stone back onto its chain and turned to the men. "I am Ambassador Sir David Woeth, son of Lance. I am here to see His Majesty, King Jaegon."

One of the sentries stepped forward. "The son of Lance? As in the Dragon Master?"

David nodded. "That one."

"It is an honor," the sentry said, extending his hand. David shook it and then made his way past them. They raised the portcullis and he entered the palace. He saw hundreds of guards with spears and swords practicing in the outer bailey. They were sparring and others were battling with their daemons. David saw one had a Sneasel, a short, turquoise daemon with razor claws and two red feathers sprouting from its head. The other commanded a Snorunt, a black faced daemon with a triangular head of brown that one day would grow into a Glalie, a sinister ice daemon with immense powers.

Passing this, he ascended the stairs up to the great gate. The captain of the guard met him there. "Welcome to the Ice Palace," he said. He was a tall man with a dashing red cape and gilded gold armor with the sigil of House Snowcregg on his breast-the blue ram. He wore a sword at his side and he had wavy brown hair and almond eyes. "I'm Sir Henry Fort, Captain of the Guard. His Majesty is waiting for you in the main hall."

"Thank you for your hospitality," David told him. Sir Henry Fort nodded and stepped aside as the great iron doors pulled open. David stepped inside. The main hall was a vast chamber with arched ceilings and statues on either side of the room between stained glass windows of the thirteen spirit gods. Above the throne itself was a giant statue of Aeoposis, and on his side were his two children, Lunarx and Obar. There was a blue rug that ran down the center of the stone floor and led up to the throne itself. Two mahogany tables, the length of the room, were on either side of the rug. There were a few of the gentry eating and talking amongst themselves as Sir David entered. They turned and nodded to him, most of them unaware of who he was.

King Jaegon sat upon his throne and for the first time David realized how many years it had been since he had set foot in the palace. His beard was graying and his hair, once long and braided, was now cut short and balding. He still had those bright blue eyes and that welcoming smile. Leaning against the throne was the pride of House Snowcregg, Frostblade. The great sword was forged from Ioxite steel and its pommel bore a ram's head with two blue jewels set in the eyes. David could see the thousands of folds in the blade from here. He approached the throne. As he did, a woman came out from behind it. She was dressed in a long, white gown and wore a crystal crown atop her brown hair. She smiled when she saw David and rushed down and embraced him.

"It has been too long," she said.

"Indeed," David said, smiling. Close behind her was a Weavile, a black furred daemon that grew from Sneasel and had a crown of red feathers lining its brow and razor sharp fangs. "And how is my Weavile doing?" he asked, bending down and allowing the daemon to leap up into his arms. The Weavile nuzzled up next to his chest. "I've missed you ole pal."

"He's doing fine," she said. "You know I take good care of him."

"He looks a little pudgy. You've been feeding him too much," David said, poking at the Weavile's belly. The Weavile gave him a curious look. He laughed and mussed the daemon's feathers.

"Sir David, my old friend," King Jaegon called from the throne. "It is such a pleasure to see you."

"And you as well, Your Majesty," David said, bowing. "Might I inquire as to your health? We don't hear much in the west."

"No you may not. Get over here and give me a hug and drop all the bloody formalities," he said, rising up from his throne. David walked over to him and they embraced. David thought he smelled of ice and hair oil. The king took David by the arms and shook him. "Where have you been?"

"Doing your bidding, Your Majesty," David said, smiling.

"Father talks only about you," the woman in the gown called. "He's been ranting on and on for years now about how you were the son that he never had."

"I'm sure you're exaggerating," David said.

"Not in the least! If I could've had another son, Sir David, I would've wished him to be you."

David looked down, embarrassed. "Well, that's very kind of you." He felt Weavile scratching at his boots. He bent down and picked the daemon up in his arms. He scratched its head and kissed it. "Has he been doing well for you?" he asked the woman.

"He was a bit stubborn at first, but I think he's starting to come around," she said. The Weavile purred like a cat as David stroked his head.

Suddenly the iron doors burst open and a giant man entered wearing black armor and toting his helm in the crook of his arm. At his side was a black, horned dog called a Houndoom. It had dark eyes and was ripped with muscles. The man had a big face and dangling jowls. "David comes home and nobody bothers to tell me!" he cried, his arms spread out.

"How are you, Nosaj?" David called out to him as he crossed the room.

Nosaj laughed. "I'm bloody freezing if you must know. What are you doing here? I don't remember inviting you."

"I don't recall this being your palace, Nosaj. Thus, I do not see any reason in which I would have to inquire upon your-"

"Stop all that nonsense. I don't understand a word of it. Come here you lump," he said, throwing his arms around David and squeezing him so tightly that he thought he would burst. "And you, Azra!" he said to the woman in the white gown. "Your husband comes home and he doesn't even get a hello or a kiss?"

She smiled and walked over to him. "You are all sweaty, dear. You should take a bath."

"She likes it when I stink, don't let her lie to you," he said, swooping her up off her feet and kissing her passionately on the lips. The king laughed and walked down off the dais. He threw his arm around David.

"Listen to me, old friend. My castle is yours. Stay as long as you wish," he said. "As you can see, the company has been grim around here lately with only these two around." He made a gesture towards Azra and Nosaj.

David's smile faded. "Is Sarah still not a maid here?"

The king laughed. "Of course she is. I'm sure she's tending to Li, wherever she may be."

"I would like to see her," David said.

"I bet you would," Nosaj said, laughing. "Are there no women in the west to keep you company? I find one every time I go into town."

Azra hit him playfully. "Shut up, you."

"I am not like you, Nosaj. I have not the looks."

Nosaj nodded. "That is true, David. You always were an ugly wretch."

"And how could I ever stand up to your manliness? You are truly a paragon of all handsome men."

"Was that a fat jape?" Nosaj asked.

"Would I be so bold?"

Nosaj scoffed and tapped his tomahawk that he wore on his belt. "I've gotten a lot better with this thing, I'll have you know. The blood of the Amzions flow through my veins."

"You look all Norg to me," David said.

"Don't be fooled by my tall stature and dashing good looks. My mother was from Amzion, no doubt. This was her brother's weapon," he said, gesturing towards the tomahawk. "She told me once that he could hit a man from fifty yards away with it."

"That so?" David asked.

"It's true. You could ask her if she wasn't dead. Been dead around twenty years now, I suppose."

"She was a good woman."

"You never knew her."

"Seemed like a good thing to say."

Nosaj laughed. "Shut up, you knave… or should I have Azra here shut you up?" He glanced over at Azra with a sly smile. "You haven't forgotten her Walrein, I'm sure?"

David groaned. "How could I forget?"

"She's gotten much stronger. How about a battle? Eh? To welcome you home!"

The king stepped forward. "I'm sure that Sir David has had a long journey and is no mood for a battle right now. We will eat and then-"

"No, no, Your Majesty. We can eat afterwards. I think that I have some old bones that need to be buried," David said.

Azra laughed. "I've been training hard, David. I would hate to beat you now that you are a knight and all."

Nosaj chuckled. "It'll be epic. Come with me, you two. To the arena!"

The arena was a vast stone chamber supported by ice pillars. David and Azra stood on either side with their chains in hand.

"It will be a three daemon battle," Nosaj said from the center of the arena. "The first trainer to defeat all three of the opponent's daemons wins." Nosaj then moved to the side and joined the king and a few of the other gentry who had come to watch the show, as well as several of the palace guards.

Azra was holding a blue stone in her hand. She held it out and said: "Walrein, I choose you!" The stone began to shake and a bright blue light shot out into the center of the room and took the form of a giant walrus-like daemon with blue flesh and white fur around its face and two tusks rising up out of its mouth.

"Salamence, I choose you!" David called, and from the red stone appeared the dragon daemon, red wings flapping fiercely and roaring. "Ladies first," David said, smiling.

"No problem," Azra replied. "Walrein, use Sheer Cold!" The Walrein closed its eyes and suddenly the entire room became freezing and up from the ground rose hundreds of shards of ice.

"Salamence, use Fly and dodge it!" David commanded. The dragon flapped its wings and rose up. The shards missed it completely. "Great job, now use Dragon Pulse!"

Salamence opened its gaping mouth and a blue pulse shot out at the Walrein. It was too slow to get out of the way and the attack slammed into it, rolling it onto its back. But the daemon was strong and was back up in no time.

"Walrein, use Ice Shard!" Azra called. The Walrein rose up and out of its mouth shot out shards of ice that pierced into the Salamence. The dragon groaned in pain as it fell from the sky in a great heap. It tried to rise up, but it was no use.

"Salamence is unable to battle!" Nosaj called.

"Salamence, return," David said, holding out the red stone. The defeated dragon returned to the stone in a red flash. "You've been training hard, Azra. But I've got something for that Walrein. Go, Lucario!"

Out from a flash of brown came a daemon that walked on both feet like a human but resembled that of a jackal with ears rising up off its head. It had blue fur and black stripes. A single spike rose up from its chest and the back of each paw. "Lucario, Aura Sphere!"

The Lucario brought its paws together and summoned a spiraling blue whirl of aura and then hurled it at the Walrein. The attack exploded as it connected and the Walrein was tossed onto its back, unconscious.

"No! Walrein!" Azra cried out. She grunted and called back the defeated daemon. "Alright, David. You want to play rough? Go get him, Ninetails!"

The daemon that appeared before them was a white, dog-like daemon with thick fur and nine tails rising from its end. It had red, glowing eyes and was crouched and ready to attack. "Ninetails, Fire Blast!"

"Lucario, dodge it and use Close Combat!" David cried. The Ninetails opened its mouth and fired a blast of fire out across the arena that made the crowd shriek and jump back to avoid the flames. Lucario danced around each one of them and then leapt in close. He began pummeling the Ninetails with furious fists, knocking it back with each blow.

"Ninetails, get away from that Lucario! Jump back and use Confuse Ray!" Azra called. The Ninetails, visibly in pain, managed to duck under one of the Lucario's fists and make its way out into the center of the arena. It spun around then and a strange, swirling beam of light danced from its forehead and circled around the Lucario. The Lucario stumbled back and forth, unable to tell which direction he was going. "Good job! Now, quick, Flamethrower!"

"Lucario! You've got to snap out of it!" David called, but it was no use. The Ninetails blew a stream of flames out across the arena that engulfed the Lucario. It howled in pain before it collapsed. "Lucario, you did well. Return."

"Down to the last one, eh?" Nosaj called from the side, laughing. "You better step it up, Sir David!"

David smiled. "I've got this," he said. He brought out the third stone. "Tyranitar, lets finish this!" he called. The daemon that appeared was massive, standing at least eight feet with broad, iron-like shoulders and wicked spikes that protruded from its back. Its eyes were menacing and dark and it had strange black openings up its legs and sides and its belly was a bright blue. "Tyranitar, use Earthquake!"

"Ninetails! Quick, you must-" Azra tried, but it was too late. The Tyranitar raised its mighty fists up to the heavens and then slammed them into the ground. The entire arena began to shake and the ground opened up, spitting up rocks and dust. The Ninetails cried out in agony as it was pummeled by rocks and debris from the Tyranitar's attack.

"And now it all comes down to this," Nosaj said, smiling while the rest of the crowd was still shielding their faces from the dust. "The last two!"

The king glanced over at Nosaj. "Didn't you give David that Tyranitar when it was just a Pupitar?"

Nosaj chuckled. "I did. My bad."

"Alright, I choose you, Abomasnow!" Azra cried. The daemon that appeared from the stone was nearly as tall as Tyranitar and had thick white fur with green claws and an equally green tail. When it appeared, hail began to fall from the ceiling and the crowd shielded themselves with whatever they could find. Nosaj just stood there laughing. "Abomasnow, use Blizzard!"

"Tyranitar, cut down her attack with Dark Pulse!" David commanded. The Tyranitar nodded and leaned forward, closing its eyes and suddenly a ball of spiraling purple and black energy appeared before it. Abomasnow raised its mighty fists to the ceiling and icy wind began to twirl around it as it gathered the energy for the attack. Once complete, the Abomasnow hurled the icy wind at the Tyranitar. The Tyranitar released the dark energy at the same time and the two attacks collided in the center of the arena and exploded, leaving nothing but a cloud of dust.

"I won't let you beat me!" Azra cried. "Abomasnow, use Wood Hammer!"

David stepped forward. "Tyranitar, get in close and finish her with Stone Edge!"

The two daemon charged one another with such force that the entire arena began to rumble. The Abomasnow raised a mighty fist up over its head and it began to glow green. Tyranitar raised up its claws and out from the ground came giant boulders. The Abomasnow swung down but as it did it was met by hundreds of sharp stones flying upwards. The attack pummeled the daemon and made it stumble backwards.

"Tyranitar, use Dragon Claw and finish this!" David commanded. The Tyranitar charged the staggering Abomasnow and slashed violently with fiery claws. The Abomasnow fell onto its back and was finished.

"And Sir David wins!" Nosaj called. The crowd cheered and clapped and Nosaj walked out onto the arena. "Next time, can we not do any sort of moves called Earthquake? You trying to bring the whole place down?"

"Sorry," David said, smiling. "I was in the moment." His Tyranitar walked over and he patted it on its blue belly. "Good work, return," he said, and the daemon returned to its stone in a flash of black light.

Azra crossed the arena and shook David's hand. "It was a good battle."

"He got lucky," Nosaj said.

The king walked over and placed his hand on David's shoulder. "Luck had nothing to do with it."

"I will beat you, David. You can bet on that," Azra said. "One day, you wait and see."

David smiled. "I'm sure you will."

"Well there are much more important things in the world than daemon battling… like eating!" Nosaj cried out.

The king nodded. "Aye. Let us feast."

David was allowed to sit alongside King Jaegon on the dais. On the other side of them were Nosaj and Azra. Servants brought silver plates with turkey and pork stuffed with pineapple and cherries. Next came the soup bowl of beans and cheese and bacon strips. David drank hippocras while the others drank mead. David never liked it because it was too stout. The servants brought out fruit plates as well with apricots and apples, bananas from Amzion and fresh strawberries from Ommachun.

Sitting beside Azra was her Bonsley, a small, rock-type daemon that resembled a boulder with three green orbs sprouting out of its head. She fed it turkey from her plate. Nosaj's Houndoom lurked under the tables, catching scraps. A Mightyena, a dog-like daemon with gray fur, got too close and the Houndoom scorched it with flames from its mouth. Nosaj found this hilarious.

There were court jesters that performed several plays for the gentry while they ate. David recognized one of them as an ancient Norgland folklore tale about a great Norg warrior named Hekl and his daemon, the legendary beast of fire, Entei. Entei was played by a man dressed in a fur suit and down on all fours while the warrior was played by one of the palace guards who had expressed a liking of the theater. It was titled, _For Whom All Things Are Red_. A tragic tale of how the fire beast is forced to turn on its own master because of its evil ties with the underworld. This is why most legendary creatures are not trusted by men. Your regular daemon is free to roam the world at will and upon its death returns to the void, but the legendaries were created, or so the legend says, by Zultizar and Ammon and several of the other daemon lords to lure man into their service.

"Scorched alive because he loved too much," Jaegon said.

David looked up from his plate. "A sad story."

"Yes. Do you think it's true?"

David shrugged. "Who's to say that it's not?"

"Many do not believe in the old legends anymore. They call them myths now."

"It is this way in the west, as well. I thought Vvarden Mour to always hold the legends in high regard, however."

"As did I, but things are changing." He glanced over at Azra and Nosaj as they laughed and kissed and fed each other fruit. "She does not believe."

"She never has, Your Majesty. She is too smart for such legends."

"Are you saying that you don't believe either?"

David chuckled. "I would never be so bold. Whether or not the legends are true, and whether or not Aeoposis is really watching over us all with his omniscient Arceus by his side, one cannot be sure. But I was brought up to believe such things and so I will not dishonor my family by believing otherwise. You did not force her to believe as my mother forced me."

"No. I wanted her to believe because she wanted to," he said.

David sipped his hippocras. "Give her time. Perhaps she will come around. And if she doesn't, who's to say? The gods never mentioned any sort of punishment for non-believers."

"Because when the words of the gods were written down they never thought there would be anyone who didn't believe. Because back then, the gods walked the earth. Spirits and daemons alike. They lived in harmony."

"Yes, until Obar introduced them to war by giving Zultizar his axe. I know the story well."

"I suppose that is the question, my friend. Is it a story, or is it reality?"

David shrugged. "No one really knows, Your Majesty. But we all have our beliefs. I pray to the gods because it is something that makes me feel comfort. Because I believe that these stones that I wear around my neck are more than just chance. These daemons were gifted to me and I believe that they come from a place greater than this earth."

"From heaven?"

"Or hell, if it must be. There are those who possess more darkness than others, but there are those who are beacons of light as well. Does this damn one and save the other? I think not. I think that they should all be equal in man's eye."

"You are wise for your age," King Jaegon said.

David smiled. "I had a very wise tutor."

The king placed his hand on David's shoulder. "The palace hasn't been the same without you, my David."

They talked some time about faith and myth and all the while feasted and drank and watched the players perform. After that they had a melee contest in which Nosaj, drunk as he was, decided to enter. He won by ten points with a war hammer and his tomahawk. Once most of the gentry were gone to bed and Azra had dragged her drunken husband, high on his pride of winning the melee, off to bed, it left the king and David alone. A bard stayed behind and strummed softly on his lyre while they sat and talked. David knew the tune. It was called _The Night of the Moon's Awakening_.

"I know that you are not here just to visit," the king said. His face was red and David could tell that he was slightly drunk. "I know that you bring news from the west. And if it had been good news, you would not have waited until this late hour to tell me of it."

David bit his bottom lip. "I do not like being the bearer of bad news, Your Majesty."

"Spare me the courtly rules and get to it. What is happening in Byra-Dul?"

"They have recently crowned Gustov Alexandros III. He is not unlike his predecessors. His father, the late king, died of syphilis. Or so I'm told. The king made it clear to me that he wishes to have an audience with Your Majesty."

King Jaegon scoffed. "What would Gustov Alexandros have to say to me?"

"He recently received a proposal from your uncle in Ommachun."

"My uncle? Cyrus?"

David nodded. "Yes, Your Majesty."

"By the gods, proposing what?"

"That he join his cause in Ommachun."

The king let his face fall into his hands. "Tell me that he is going to refuse."

"He is awaiting word from me as to whether or not Your Majesty will grant him passage into Vvarden Mour so that he may speak with you personally on the matter."

"I suppose that means that he wants to join my foolish uncle then. Why else would he travel all this way to speak with me?"

"He did not say one way or the other, but as your ambassador I advise you to deny this offer. King Gustov is very young and is eager for war and thinks himself a humanist and a free-thinker. He wants to fight what he constantly refers to as 'the old religion' and to establish a world free of superstition. I have nothing against free thought, but I cannot condone these methods of gaining it. As much as I respect your uncle, I beg of you to not allow this king an audience."

"Is that what he thinks that Cyrus is fighting for?" Jaegon said, his voice suddenly furious.

David was taken aback. "I… Your Majesty…"

"Forgive me, Sir David," Jaegon said. "I'm slightly drunk." He laughed but it seemed awkward.

David nodded. "Well, Your Majesty, one way or the other-whatever Cyrus is fighting for-I pray that you do not give King Alexandros an audience."

"If I do not he will be offended and then I will have to worry about what he will do. He will join my uncle whether I give him permission to speak with me or not. He wants me to join with him as well. He wants an epic victory. If half of Welgium were to set sail for Ommachun, we would destroy them in six weeks. He would burn every house and every chapel and he would murder King George and his wife and everyone." The king massaged his temples with his thumb and forefinger. "I cannot refuse his request to speak with me. You are right in the sense that he is young and eager for war. Let us not give him a reason to want to turn his swords on us."

David scoffed. "With all due respect, Your Majesty, but we would crush him."

"But he doesn't know that. And he's too young to care. But I don't like the thought of my men dying or his. I am a humanist, too, and I believe in peace. I may have Norg blood running through my veins, but I am a student of serenity."

"Then what should I tell him, Your Majesty?"

The king thought for a moment. "Tell him that I will grant him access into Vvarden Mour and that I will hear his proposal. Do not tell him that you have already spoken with me on the subject. I do not want to him to think that I might already have my mind made up one way or the other that way he is not disappointed or arrives already angry. Keep this quiet. Do not tell Nosaj or my daughter."

"I am an ambassador, Your Highness. I've learned how to keep secrets," David said, smiling.

"Good. Write your letter. Now help an old man up those damn stairs and to my loft. I'm tired."

The snow was light the next day so David sat outside and watched the guards spar in the tourney yard. Azra sat next to him cradling the small Bonsley in her arms and cooing softly to it. Nosaj was down on the field standing beside Sir Henry Fort. Next to Nosaj was a tall, pale daemon with a purple belly that stretched out into a long tail. It had three fingers on each hand. Mewtwo, it was called. It was a legendary daemon, the only of its kind, and one of few that could speak the human language. It was the pride of Nosaj's team.

"Where did you get that Bonsley?" David asked Azra.

Azra looked up. "A trader came to the palace with all sorts of exotic daemons from around the world. He gave me this little Bonsley for a low price. He said it would eventually grow into a Sudowoodo. I need a good rock-type for my team."

David nodded. "It's cute."

"Isn't it? I just love it so."

Down on the field the captain and Nosaj had decided to have a battle. The captain sent out a short, fury daemon with furious eyes and pumping fists known as a Primeape. Nosaj sent out his Gengar, a purple daemon of the ghost variety with eerie eyes and a big, white grin. Nosaj commanded the daemon to use Shadow Ball and the Gengar hurled a shadowy blob of dark energy at the Primeape. The Primeape was fast, however, and managed to avoid the attack. But when it lunged forward to pound the Gengar with its fists, the attack went straight through the ghost daemon. Nosaj laughed and called out, "Gengar, use Hypnosis!" The ghost daemon closed its eyes and three rays of light struck the Primeape and it staggered about for a minute, and then fell to the ground asleep. "Now, use Dream Eater!" The tourney yard became dark and the Gengar grew taller and began to glow red and a shadowy mouth opened up and bit into the Primeape. The attack turned into a cloud of smoke as it did and visibly nothing seemed to happen, but the Primeape immediately awoke and howled in agony as its dream was eaten by the menacing Gengar.

"He likes scary daemons," David said.

"He always has. Ever since he got that Gastly from my father all those years ago, he's been obsessed with them. That Mewtwo of his has grown immensely powerful as well. He hardly ever uses it for battle anymore, but when he does it normally brings quite a crowd."

"I can imagine. Most people have never even seen or heard of the Mewtwo."

"Most people don't even believe that it exists," Azra said. "But there it stands, tall and pale. It scares me."

"I've heard that it can read your thoughts."

"It can do much more than that," Azra said. "Nosaj can make it possess people's bodies. Like I said, it has become very powerful."

"My old Weavile should have no problem with it."

"No, it can normally defeat it. But none of the others are much of a match against its psychic powers."

"My Zangoose could take him."

"You think so?" Nosaj called from the tourney grounds. He walked over to the bench that Azra and David were sitting on. "You think your little Zangoose can take the Mewtwo?"

The Mewtwo stood next to Nosaj, silent and staring.

"I believe it can," David said.

"Well why don't you show us?" Nosaj gestured towards the tourney grounds. "A quick battle. Your Zangoose and Mewtwo."

"Fine," David said, rising. "You're on."

The two of them walked down to the field and stood on opposite ends. The guards all stood back and muttered to one another. Mewtwo stepped out in front of Nosaj.

 _May the power of the daemons be with you_ , the Mewtwo said, its mouth unmoving.

"And with you as well," David said. "Zangoose, show them your power!" He held out the white stone and from it appeared the daemon Zangoose. It was a short, white-haired daemon with red markings on its face and chest and on the ends of its long claws. It had pink eyes and sharp fangs.

"Mewtwo, use Focus Blast!" Nosaj called. The Mewtwo closed its eyes and brought its hands together in front of it. A ring of bright red light appeared before it and in the center of the ring a white ball of energy began to form.

"Zangoose, hurry and use Shadow Claw!" David cried. The Zangoose shot out across the field while the Mewtwo was still summoning up its power. It slid beneath the red ring and slashed upward viciously with claws that were glowing purple. The Mewtwo staggered backwards, losing its focus.

"Again!" David cried. The Zangoose leapt upwards and came down with both claws ablaze with purple flame. The Mewtwo was very fast though, and like a flash of lightning flipped high into the air and landed on the other side of the Zangoose.

"Mewtwo, use Psycho Cut!" Nosaj commanded. The Mewtwo brought one arm back and it burst into purple flames and then it slung it out at the Zangoose. The flames zipped across the field and struck the Zangoose square in the stomach. It fell onto its back, grimacing in pain.

"Come on, Zangoose! Get up! Shadow Claw!" David called. The Zangoose pulled itself to its feet but the Mewtwo was far too fast. In an instant it was in close and brought a foot across the Zangoose's face, sending it flying through the air.

"Good job, Mewtwo! Now, finish this! Focus Blast!" Nosaj called. The Mewtwo began to try and form the attack once more, closing its eyes and focusing its energy into a spiraling white ball. The Zangoose struggled to its feet.

"Come on, Shadow Claw!" David cried. The Zangoose snarled and began running towards the Mewtwo. The Mewtwo hurled the attack forward, however, and it struck the Zangoose and threw it through the air and onto its back. This time it did not get up.

"Looks like Zangoose is finished," Sir Henry Fort said from the side of the tourney field.

"Good try, Zangoose. Return," David said. Nosaj was crossing the field, smiling and face full of pride.

"I warned you, David. Mewtwo is not to be trifled with." Mewtwo was at his side.

 _The Zangoose fought well and was a worthy opponent_ , the Mewtwo said.

"I'm glad that you have more humility than your master," David told the daemon. "You are very powerful."

 _I exist on this plane to fight. It is my greatest passion_ , the Mewtwo said. _And I hate to lose_.

"You're on the right team then," Nosaj said, throwing his arm around the daemon. The Mewtwo nodded slowly.

Azra walked over with the small Bonsley in her arms. "Darling, I'm hungry. Can we eat now?"

"Sure. Will you be joining us for lunch?" Nosaj asked.

David shook his head. "I'm sorry, old friend. But I have some business to attend to with the king. I will see you for dinner, I'm sure."

The king and Sir David had a small lunch out on one of the balconies of the Ice Palace's many towers. They drank iced wine with honey and ate ham stuffed with eggs and onions. The sky was clear and you could see the mountains that stretched out far across the land.

"It was a sad day when we buried your father," the king said. "I miss him. He was a good man."

David didn't say anything.

"I do not mean to upset you."

"I am not upset. I was young when he died."

"You were twelve. Nearly a man. I know you remember it well."

David sipped his wine. "Of course I do. I remember the day that we arrived here and he told me that this was the land of legends. He told me that this was a mythical and sacred land where he would find the most powerful of dragon daemons."

"He had discovered the keys to Mount Coronet. I remember," the king said. He dipped a piece of black bread into a red sauce and ate it.

"Yes. It took him a lifetime but he had found them." David glanced down at his plate. "He always wanted me to be a dragon trainer like him. He thought that I would be the next Dragon Master once he died."

The king looked up.

"I disappointed him, Jaegon. I was too interested in politics and history. All he talked about was daemon battling. It was all that he knew. People remember him as a hero. They say, Lance the Dragon Master was the greatest trainer that ever lived."

"Do you think him not?"

David sighed. "I don't know. It is a title that means nothing to me, in truth. I didn't need a Dragon Master or the greatest trainer that ever lived. I just wanted a father."

The king reached across the table and took David's hand. "You do not have to speak of this if it is too heavy on your heart."

"No, it's alright. He was a good man. I remember that much. But he was always just the Dragon Master. Even my mother called him that. He prayed to the gods daily and went to mass and did his duty as a man. I was raised in great wealth in a fine castle overlooking Gelophagan's Way in southern Ommachun. It was beautiful there. I would watch the gulls from the north tower and I would listen to the choir sing their chorus's in the mornings from my bedroom window. But my father was never there. He was always off chasing another dream. Another ambition. Not even time could slow him down." David sat back and smiled. "It took a rock slide on the edge of Mount Coronet to wake him up from his stupor. He died a fool chasing a fool's dream."

King Jaegon shook his head. "He died a Dragon Master doing his duty. He was a man, David. You must remember this. And he provided for his family. This is the duty of a man. You mustn't hate him. He did all that he could."

"Did he? Would it have been so much trouble for him to stop and think of my needs? Or my mother's needs? Or my sibling's needs?"

"He put food in your bellies and gave you a wonderful home. I've seen the Dragon's Keep. It is a beautiful castle."

"No doubt. But there is more to life than that. The bare necessities do not pleasure the soul. You taught me that, Jaegon. You taught me that love and compassion are the true signs of caring. Not gold. Not food. Not titles or castles. Love and compassion. My father didn't have time for either."

The king looked down and forked his lunch. "I'm sorry, David. But my father was the same. He was a king and he did not have time for me. I had a blade master who taught me how to fight with a sword. I had a hearth mother who cared for my physical needs and dressed me every day. I had a cook who fed me. The only friend I had was my daemon, Magikarp. He was so little at first that I kept him in a jar of water. But as he grew, I was forced to throw him out into the lake. I remember how I cried and cried when I lost him."

David was watching his face as he spoke.

"The winter came and the lake froze over and I thought that my little Magikarp would die for sure. But then, come the first signs of spring, a Gyarados burst from out of the ice and flew to my bedroom window. I can remember the great joy I felt and the sweet relief that my daemon had come back to me."

David shifted. "Are you saying that I should find peace in something else?"

"I'm saying that you have found peace, David. You are the Grand Ambassador of Vvarden Mour, Knight of the King's Order, and one of my greatest friends. You are respected throughout the kingdom, David. You have wonderful daemons who serve you loyally and you have a woman that loves you dearly."

David smiled. "Sarah."

"Yes. She speaks of you and only you. I know that she has had no other nor will accept the hand of any other," the king told him. "You should go to her."

"I will. I am just afraid."

"Do not be afraid of love, my David."

"I do not fear love. I fear the loss of love."

The king took David's hand and looked him in the eyes. "Because your father did not show you the love that you deserve does not mean that all are that way. Have I not loved you as a son?"

"You have, my king," David said. "And I will always serve you for it."

"I don't want you to serve me, David. I just want you to love me as a father. I just want you to respect me and to heed my words. In life, your father was blinded by his own ambitions. But now, in death, I believe that he can look down upon you and if he can see you now, he would be proud."

David smiled. "You believe so?"

"I do."

"You are a crazy old man," David said, laughing. "But thank you for your compassion."

"That comes free," the king said. "But what I need to ask of you requires something more."

"I am your most humble servant, Your Majesty. Command me as you will."

"I need you to travel south to the city of Dawnstar. Do you know of it?"

"I do, Your Highness."

"There you will find the High Priest of Vvarden Mour. I want you to give him this letter," the king said, slipping out a parchment from his sleeve and handing it to David. "Enclosed are orders that he should travel here immediately."

"Am I to understand that you want him to bring your son with him?"

The king smiled. "You know me too well."

"You fear for his safety?"

"With all this talk of religious wars going on, it is best to air on the side of caution. You cannot make windows into men's souls to find out whose side they are truly on when it comes to the questions of the gods. My son is in the service of the High Priest and he will come on my bidding. I think it also best if I have the High Priest here with me when the king of Byra-Dul arrives. Maybe it will keep him calm while he's here."

David sat quiet for a moment. "Am I to believe that you think King Alexandros has ulterior motives as to traveling to Ommachun?"

"To Ommachun? I think he has ulterior motives traveling here," King Jaegon said.

"What do you mean?"

Jaegon sat forward. "Mourians have a code, David. A code that is ancient and that predates any other oath to any other king. Ice and wind the gods may send, but mountains are my home. Never plains of gold or forest green, for snow is in my bones."

"I know this code, Your Majesty. Something about it being wrong for a Mourian to want more than he has, or something."

"It goes for kings too, you know."

"Conquering."

Jaegon smiled. "A Mourian king swears to this oath whenever he becomes king. It is the old way. He must never try to extend his boundaries beyond those already set because the gods set them this way and that is how it should be."

"You speak much of the gods of late."

"I have thought much of them of late." Jaegon's voice sounded tired. His eyes looked heavy as if he'd been awake for days.

"Are you ill, Your Majesty?"

"No," Jaegon said, smiling. It seemed forced. "Gods blood, no. Just remember the code, David. Promise me. My son knows it. My daughter, too. They would never go against it. Promise me that no matter what may happen or be asked of you, you will never go against it, either."

David scoffed. "I'm no Mourian, Your Majesty."

Jaegon grabbed David's arm. "In my eyes, you are my son. You are as much a Mourian as I. You might as well be a Norg."

David saw something in Jaegon's eyes that said he would not bend on this. "You are my king. My sovereign. My dread lord. I swear to you that I will never go against the code of the Mourians."

Jaegon smiled and patted David on the back. "Thank you. If only to help an old man's conscience."

"Conscience? Your conscience should be clear, Your Majesty. You have been a great king and have never wronged a single of your subjects."

Jaegon didn't say anything. He looked almost a statue in the dimming light.

"Your Majesty?"

"Do this for me, Sir David. Go to Dawnstar and retrieve the High Priest and my son."

"I will leave first thing in the morning," David said. David rose and began to walk away, but the king grabbed his arm.

"Promise me you will go to her first."

David smiled. "I will go to her."

"She knows that you are here."

"I'm sure that she does."

"She never leaves the queen's side these days. So do not expect her to come after you. You are the man. You should go to her."

"I will, Your Majesty."

The king laughed. "When it is just you and I, for the god's sake, call me Jaegon."

"As you wish."

Sir David climbed the stairs that winded around the south tower. He passed several ladies-in-waiting on his way up and they all wore stone faces with empty eyes. He reached the highest corridor of the tallest tower and followed it to the end. Standing outside of the queen's bedchamber were two knights in quilted doublets with rapiers on their sides. They nodded to David as he entered the room. It smelled of sickness and decay; an old rotting smell that was like that of an attic. In the center of the room was a giant bed with drapes on all sides and in the center was a dried image of a queen beneath layers of bedspreads. She had gray hair that had once been black as onyx. Her eyes were squinted like her daughter's, and her skin was of an olive complexion. She was a Ztechian. The king had told David once that he had met her while on an expedition to the Isle of Dragons with David's father. Long before David was born. Sitting next to the bed was a woman with short dark hair and pale, milky skin.

"Sarah," he said.

She turned to him with red eyes. "David."

He wasn't sure what to say. "I wanted to see how you were doing. And the queen."

Sarah rose and crossed the room. "She is not well."

"And you?"

"You've been here for nearly two days and this is the first time you've bothered to come and see me."

David sighed. "You knew I was here and you didn't come to welcome me, either."

"I don't want to leave Her Majesty's side. She needs me."

David stepped in close. "I need you."

She backed away. "I can't, David. I can't leave her now."

"I'm not asking you to leave her."

"What is it that you want?"

"A kiss."

She leaned in and gave him a quick, emotionless peck.

"Is that all?"

"Things change, David."

He nodded. "It would appear so."

"You've been away for two years. All that time I've spent here, in this very room. Praying to the gods and looking out for Her Majesty."

"I have been praying as well and doing His Majesty's bidding."

"Then we are both victims of circumstance."

"No, we chose the paths that we are on. But that doesn't mean that we have to be apart," he said, reaching out to take her hand. She pulled away. "Why will you not come to me?"

"I can't."

"Why?"

She turned away from him and faced the queen's bed. "I'm not ready for what you want. I didn't come see you because I knew what you would ask of me. And I cannot give it."

He looked down at his boots. "Do you not love me anymore?"

"Love has nothing to do with it," she said. Tears began to run down her cheeks. "I just can't."

"What are you afraid of?"

She shook her head. "What does it matter, David? This is the way that things are. And this is the way that they will stay."

"Do you want me to go?"

She stood tall. "Yes."

"Fine. I will go." He walked past her and over to the queen's bedside. She was sleeping but he reached down and took her hand in his. "My prayers are with you, my queen," he said to her. When he turned back he saw that Sarah was staring at him. "What is it?"

"She speaks of you often. She calls you her son."

"I knew her well," he said.

She nodded. "I know."

He bit his bottom lip. "Sarah, I love you."

She looked at him and he could see in her eyes every particle of her being wanted to say those words back to him, but all she said was: "I know."

David nodded and swept past her.

Dawnstar was not too far of a fly from the Ice Palace. He wore his thick fur cloak and hood to keep the icy wind from biting at his face. His Salamence grunted as it began its descent into the city. He landed in the center of a cobblestone street and the townsfolk stopped to watch him dismount his dragon daemon. The buildings that lined the street were tall and of stone with signs and people standing outside of them trading and bartering. It was midday.

"Salamence, return," he said. He returned the red stone to its place on his chain and started up the street. He walked until he came to the chapel, a great stone monolith with a steeple that stretched high into the heavens. Monks were tending the chickens just outside the iron gate that surrounded the property. David opened the gate and stepped inside. A monk in brown robes approached him.

"May I help you, sire?"

"Yes, I am Sir David Woeth, son of Lance. Ambassador to His Majesty the King. I wish to speak with the High Priest."

"Right this way, sire," he said, turning and starting up the stone staircase that led up the side of the steep hill to the chapel doors. Once inside, he could hear the choir singing in the sanctuary and he passed several people making offerings to statues of the spirit gods. Candles lit the entire chamber with a soft, orange glow. He followed the monk up a flight of winding stairs and into a corner room guarded by a monk who wore a sword around his belt. He entered the room and found the High Priest sitting behind a heavy desk writing with a quill on a yellow sheet of parchment. All around him were towering bookshelves filled with hundreds of tomes. The priest himself was a bulky fellow with a broad nose and a bald head.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, ambassador," the priest said. He made a gesture to the chair in front of the desk. "Do have a seat."

David sat down and crossed one leg over the other. "I am here on official business, Your Grace. His Majesty the King wishes you to come to the Ice Palace at once."

The priest furrowed his brow. "Whatever for?"

"The king of Byra-Dul is seeking an audience with His Highness and he wishes you there to help him with any decision making that might have to be made."

"I am a man of the gods, ambassador. I am no politician."

"That's just it, Your Holiness. I do not believe this has anything to do with politics. His Majesty will give you all the details once you arrive at the Ice Palace. He wanted me to stress the urgency of your arrival."

"But, Ambassador David, surely you don't believe-"

"I believe only what my king commands me to. I say and do only his bidding. This is an oath I swore when I became a citizen of Vvarden Mour. Need I remind you that you swore that oath as well, Your Holiness?"

"My memory serves me just fine, thank you."

David smiled. "Good. Then it is settled. I shall return to the Ice Palace and inform His Majesty that you will be arriving there shortly."

The priest leaned back and scratched his head. "You must understand, ambassador, I have many pressing matters here with the church that cannot be dropped like this. There are many lost souls out there that need me."

"And there will be many more if you do answer His Majesty's call." David leaned forward and spoke softly but sternly, saying: "And if you decided not to join His Majesty, you might find yourself meeting the gods sooner than you had expected."

"Are you threatening me, ambassador?"

"Threatening? Heavens, no. I am only a messenger, Your Holiness. I would never be so bold as to threaten. I merely suggest. Suggest, and imply. And I'm implying that it would be in your best interests to answer the king's calling."

The priest sighed. "Very well, ambassador. I will leave for the Ice Palace first thing in the morning. Give me three days to travel the mountain passes."

"One last thing," David said.

"You ask more of me? Is this not enough?"

"The king requests that you bring his son along. He fears his safety is in danger here."

The priest looked bewildered. "His safety? What is going on here, ambassador?"

"As I said, His Majesty will give you all the details upon your arrival. Thank you for your hospitality. I shall be going now." Sir David rose from his seat and turned and left the room, leaving the priest wide-eyed and confused. He had hoped that he wouldn't have to be so stern with the High Priest, but as an ambassador he'd come to learn that some people require a certain language to bend them to your will. And High Priests were of those people.

David was sitting at the far end of the bar sipping from his mug of ale and listening to the men talk and the soft music from a bard's flute. The tavern smelt of urine and sweat and he could see the small brown roaches scurrying up the walls and he was sure that he'd seen a rat darting across the room, following the direction of the base boards. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned. It was a tall man with a big smile and green eyes. He had blonde hair and pale skin. He wore a brown wool cloak and a bright red tunic.

"How are you, David?"

"I'm doing just well, McArthur," David said. "Have a seat."

McArthur sat down next to David on a small stool. He ordered a pint of ale and paid in silver coins. "How've you been, old pal?"

"I've been the same. How about yourself?"

"The same? Stop lying to me. Look at this. What kind of material is this?" McArthur asked, feeling David's cloak. "And this fur? What is it, fox fur?"

"Bear fur. Black bear."

"It's soft," McArthur said. "And this nice blue doublet. With all the gold lacework. How about that? Your coin purse must be as big as a Snorlax, eh?"

David shifted uncomfortably. "It has been a long time."

"It sure has, old pal. It sure has. How are you?"

David could tell that McArthur was very drunk. "I'm alright. I'm the ambassador to His Majesty now."

"That so? And recently knighted, I hear."

"Word gets around quickly."

"It does. It does," McArthur said. He took a large gulp of his ale. "I'll tell you what though, I remember… I remember when we were just a bunch of little heathens running around the bloody streets chasing Glameows and all sorts of nonsense. You remember that? Said we were going to be the greatest daemon trainers the world had ever seen. Like your father, eh? How's ole Lance these days?"

David just looked at him.

"Ah, man. The ale is getting to my head. He died, didn't he? Rocks fell on his head, wasn't it? An avalanche? Chasing them legendary dragon daemons again, I bet. Poor way to go for such a great man." McArthur took another gulp. "Heard from your mother? Boy, she was mighty fine."

David realized that half of the tavern was watching them. When he glanced over his shoulder he saw a group of men all wearing bright red tunics with brown wool cloaks. Some of them were big, burly men with beards that wore battle-axes across their backs.

"The good ole days, you know? Isn't that what they call them?"

"You're drunk," David said.

McArthur roared in laughter. "You always were a straight shooter, Davey boy. Always were."

"I'm a knight now and the king's ambassador. I will not be called Davey boy by the likes of you, McArthur. You are overstepping your boundaries," David said, as calmly as possible.

"Oh, I'm sorry, _Sir_ David. Would you like me to wipe your ass for you, _Sir_ David. Mister _Ambassador_. Mister big bloody ambassador."

David rose from his seat, his hand going to his sword hilt. "What happened between us happened years ago, McArthur. We were only kids."

"Well, I don't easily forget stuff," McArthur said. His posse was suddenly behind him, each of them glaring at David menacingly. "And maybe I still have a place in my heart that's a bit sore over what you did."

"I did nothing wrong."

"You stole my wife, you filth."

"She wasn't your wife, McArthur."

"So what? I was going to marry her. She would've married me if you hadn't of stuck your big nose in the way."

David stared at him. "You don't want to do this."

"Oh, I think I do." He drew his sword. It was a thin bladed weapon with a rounded guard and single-handed hilt. The other men drew their weapons as well, and David found himself surrounded. The music had stopped and he saw that people were filing out of the tavern.

"This is your last chance, McArthur. Back off."

McArthur laughed. "I'm going to cut you a new-"

His head was on the ground before he got the last word out. David spun and sliced downward and removed the man's leg that stood beside him from the knee down. He screamed as blood spilt from the wound. David's free hand was on his chain, tearing it from his neck and tossing it into the air. Appearing around them in flashes of light were David's daemons. His Zangoose was slashing and cutting down men with its razor claws and his Lucario was hurling balls of aura into the mass of bodies. His Mawile, a small, yellow daemon with big red eyes was standing up on the bar. One of the men turned to it, thinking it only a tiny thing, but when he raised his sword up into the air the Mawile turned and revealed its giant, gaping mouth that rose from the top of its head and was hidden behind its back. The massive black jaws bit the man in half. Tyranitar was swinging its heavy spiked tail furiously about, breaking through tables and tearing holes through walls. It fired a purplish blast of dark energy from its mouth and blew a man apart.

Within moments, the entire tavern was leveled and all that stood amongst the wreckage still breathing was David and his daemons. A crowd had gathered and were watching with gaping mouths and shocked faces. Hovering over David's head was his Flygon, a dragon daemon of the desert with green skin and insect-like wings that flapped wildly and big, red bug eyes and a long green tail that ended in three red hexagonal points. Behind Flygon stood his Salamence, who turned its reptilian head towards the sky and roared. Lucario stood beside him, eyes glowing blue from the aura that flowed within. Mawile was at his feet, blood dripping from its massive jaws. Tyranitar was close by, stomping through the wreckage to make sure all that was beneath was dead. And lastly, Zangoose was sitting on the edge of what was left of the tavern, licking its wounds.

"All of you, return," David said, holding his chain up to the sky. In a brilliant flash of light, the six daemons vanished. The crowd stood staring. Within moments, three guards riding Ponyta appeared with spears and shields. The first of them dismounted and approached the ruins.

"What in the name of the gods happened here?"

David was sitting on his haunches by this point, cleaning his blade with a white cloth. "There was a dispute."

"A dispute? The entire tavern is gone!"

David glanced behind him. "It was a big dispute."

"You're going to have to come with me. You're under arrest."

David raised his palm up to the guard. "No I'm not. I'm Sir David Woeth, son of Lance. I'm the King's Ambassador."

The guard laughed. "Sure, and I'm the Prince of Ommachun."

David reached into his cloak and produced his seal of office. The guard's face went pale. "I'm so sorry, Your Grace… I… I didn't…"

"Do not fret, my friend. I will hold you no offense as long as you can forget about this little mess behind us here."

The guard nodded. "Of course, Your Grace."

David walked over to him and produced a large bag of coins. "Here. This should pay for the damage. Make sure the proprietor of this tavern gets this. I'll send men from the palace to help him rebuild it. Give him my condolences. I believe I saw him running out screaming just before the place went down."

"I'll do that," the guard said, nervously.

"Good day to you," David said. He walked past the guard and the crowd parted as he made his way down the cobblestone street on his way to the outer gate.

There was a feast and celebration held in the honor of the High Priest's visit to the Ice Palace. The main hall was filled with knights and members of the gentry who had come to welcome the priest and to ask him for his blessings. The players performed and the men drank heavily. The servants brought steaming plates of smoked vegetables and slabs of beef still red with blood and pots of boiling soup with celery and three kinds of cheeses. Mead poured freely and David sat on the dais at the far end so that the High Priest and the king could talk. He could not hear them, nor did he want to. His Lucario stood beside him like a guard, his red and yellow eyes staring out over the hall. His paws were behind his back and his ears stood up tall on his head. Nosaj and Azra were dancing, each of them with a mug of mead in each hand, and after this Nosaj climbed on top of a table and began to sing loudly. Everyone laughed but no one could understand what he was saying. He went into the corner and hurled not long after. The High Priest did not pay much mind to the celebration. His face stayed still and pale for most of the night. Even when the traders brought in their exotic daemons from around the world, he didn't seem impressed. Sir Henry Fort was standing guard at the iron doors with several of the palace guards. Beside him was his Primeape and his Toxicroak, a three-foot tall daemon that resembled a walking frog with blue, amphibious hide and a large red throat like a bulb that pulsated as it breathed. It had a single curved claw on each hand and had alternating red and black stripes on its belly. Several of the other guards were showing off their daemons as well. Most of the daemons were running freely about the hall causing all sorts of mischief, as was their nature. David saw his old Weavile steal a turkey leg from a man's plate from under the table and scamper off. He smiled at the sight of it.

"You can sit if you wish, Lucario," he told his daemon that was standing stiff at his side. The Lucario grunted and stayed standing. It folded his arms over its chest.

Nosaj came over and leapt up on the table in front of David. He climbed over it and took an empty seat beside him. "How've you been, old pal?" he asked, his words slurring. "Having a drink or two? Three or four? By the gods, man, make it five or six!" He took David's goblet and drank it down in a single gulp. "There, now fill it up again and drink some more. You need more mead, man. This wine doesn't get you right."

"You mean it doesn't get me wrong."

"What? Kind of sense that doesn't make. What did I say? Holy hell, there's the bloody High Priest," he said, pointing at the chunky man in white robes sitting next to the king. "Why didn't you tell me he was coming?"

"Nosaj, this is a celebration in his honor."

Nosaj looked puzzled. "It is? Well isn't that something." He stumbled off and rejoined the crowd. The knights and lords and squires always looked down on him because of his Norg-like attitude, but David loved him for it. He stayed true to himself and that wasn't something you saw often. He represents the old Norg ways. The ways that men like the High Priest are working hard to stop. David glanced over and saw the king's face looked pinched. This isn't going well, he thought. On the other side of the king sat his son, Brother Albert. He was a man of tall stature but was very quiet, much unlike the rest of the Norgs. He wore the brown burlap robes of the monks and kept his head down as if he was in constant prayer.

David saw Sarah enter then from the corner of the room. Several of the other ladies-in-waiting were with her. They all seemed full of life and giddy about being away from the withering queen if only for one night, but Sarah seemed pained. He could tell by her eyes that she didn't want to be here. He thought of going to her, but decided against it. A servant boy came by and refilled his goblet. He thanked the boy and tipped him a silver.

Outside, after the celebration had died down and most of the folks participating in the festivities had gone to bed, the night was quiet. It was very cold and the wind was like an icy blade. Fresh powder covered the ground. Nosaj was next to him with a mug of ale in his hands but already he was beginning to sober up. He was looking at the night sky. David's Lucario followed closely at his side and Nosaj's Mewtwo was at his.

"It's a funny world, really," Nosaj said. "All those stars and moons out there. Black like they are. Drinking and festivals. Gods and goddesses. Kings and queens. Knights and damsels. Funny."

"What's funny about it?" David asked as they walked. The snow crunched beneath their boots.

"The way they all take it so seriously. You know? Like those damned gentry. Always so serious about everything. You must act this way or you must act that way lest you are some fool. All these oaths and such that you have to take. Well I'm not a fool, David. I may not speak all proper like them and I may drink a lot, but does that make me less of a man?"

"Of course it doesn't. It's the Norg way."

"Damned right, it is. People forget that, you know? They forget about their roots. I'm half Amzion, you know? My mother was an amzie, gods rest her soul. They had even wilder traditions than the Norgs do. But I don't think any of that really matters. I'm just me. This is just who I am."

David nodded. "And that is why people respect you."

"They respect me because they know that I'll put my tomahawk in their heads. They respect me because they know that Mewtwo here will destroy them. They do not love me."

"I have never been loved by people, either."

"You're an ambassador. Nobody loves them."

David laughed. "This is true."

"Maybe that is why we've always been good friends. You think? Because we are both hated by people because we are who we are and we will not bend for any man. Or god, for that matter."

David raised his goblet and they toasted to that. "Or god, for that matter," he repeated.

Nosaj was looking up at the stars. "Do you think there's a heaven for men like us?"

"Heaven?" David asked. "Who's to say? Heaven. Hell. Gods and goddesses. I don't know, Nosaj. I just don't know."

"Come on, man. You're supposed to be the smart one here. Help me out. Tell me what to think."

"I can't tell you what to think, Nosaj. I can only suggest."

"Well get to suggesting because I'm lost."

"You won't remember any of this in the morning."

Nosaj laughed. "Sure I will. I'm sobering up. I'm a-ok."

David stopped at the stone battlement and walked over to it. He peered over the ramparts at the city below. "Humans are like leaves, Nosaj. We exist as part of a whole. A tree. Imagine for a moment, if you can, a great oak tree stretching far off into the heavens with thousands of branches supporting hundreds of thousands of leaves. We are those leaves, Nosaj. The seasons come and go and those leaves fall and die. Then new leaves grow and the tree is reborn. But sometimes, even when the season is ripe, the wind will catch one of those leaves and blow it from its place and send it through the forest until it lands in a creek. There it will float, with only sky above it and water below it. Floating and waiting there, until eventually it soaks up too much water and sinks."

Nosaj furrowed his eyebrows. "That didn't make me feel better at all."

"Toxicroak, use Sludge Bomb!" the captain yelled. The frog daemon reared back and spat a giant blob of poisonous sludge out of its gaping mouth in the direction of Nosaj's Alakazam, a psychic daemon covered with smooth orange fur and with a draping mustache and pointed ears. It held two spoons out in front of it that helped to focus its psychic powers. The Alakazam tried to get out of the way of the sludge but it managed to soak the left half of her body. The poison seeped in through her skin and her face sagged. "Quick, now use Sucker Punch!"

The Toxicroak leapt forward before the Alakazam could ready its attack, and through two fists like a blaze of darkness and shadow and sent the Alakazam end over end into the sand.

A light snow was falling and David watched the scene from the edge of the tourney grounds, leaning against the wooden fence.

"Get up, Alakazam!" Nosaj hollered. "Get up, I say!" The Alakazam was badly poisoned and weak, but managed to crawl up to its knees.

Sir Henry Fort laughed. "Resilient, are we? Fine. Toxicroak, finish her off with Cross Chop!"

"Alakazam, use Psychic!" Nosaj yelled. The Alakazam tried to raise up its arms to focus its psychic power but it was too weak. The Toxicroak leapt in with its two razor claws and chopped downward across the Alakazam's face. David heard bones breaking as the attack landed. The Alakazam fell backwards and was finished. Nosaj rushed over to it and held it in his arms. "You broke her nose, you knave."

"All's fair in love and war," Sir Henry Fort said, smiling. His Toxicroak stood next to him, beaming with pride.

"This isn't over!" Nosaj yelled. He removed another stone from his chain. "Go, Gengar!" The purplish ghost daemon appeared with its big white grin and red eyes. "Destroy it! Use Hypnosis!"

"Toxicroak, Sucker Punch!" the captain yelled. The Toxicroak slid in close but when it tried to punch the Gengar its attack went straight through him, rendering it useless.

"Sucker Punch is only effective if the enemy is readying an attack move," Azra said from beside David. "The captain should've known that."

The Gengar leaned back and sang out three pulses but the Toxicroak avoided the attack.

"Damn! Gengar, use Shadow Ball!" Nosaj cried.

"Now use Sucker Punch, Toxicroak!" the captain commanded. This time the attack landed, and it threw Gengar backwards and he slid across the sand and stopped just at Nosaj's feet.

"Get up! Get up!" Nosaj cried. "Shadow Ball! Come on!"

The Gengar crawled upwards, weak and dizzy.

"Toxicroak, use Flatter!" Sir Henry Fort said. The Toxicroak leaned its head back and its giant bulging throat began to pulsate wildly, sending Gengar into a rage. The Gengar leapt up off the ground and hurled a blob of shadowy energy but in his rage he didn't aim properly and the attack missed by several feet.

"No, you fool! Pay attention!" Nosaj cried.

"Toxicroak, use Sludge Bomb!" the captain hollered. The toxicroak spit its bile from its mouth and it soaked the enraged Gengar. It staggered about, trying to peel off the ooze that was dripping from its purple body. "Now, use Sucker Punch and finish this!"

The Gengar was down within seconds. Nosaj stood on the far side of the tourney ground, red with rage. "How dare you! You craven!"

"What did you call me?" the captain asked, stepping forward.

"I called you a craven!"

David climbed over the fence and rushed to Nosaj's side. "Calm down, this is not how the battle is played."

"He… he… he cheated!"

The captain was dumbfounded. "You dare accuse me of cheating?"

"Nosaj, stop being a sore loser. The captain won fair and square. I watched the entire battle."

"Horse manure! I demand a rematch!" Nosaj yelled.

The captain laughed. "Your daemons cannot fight. They are beaten."

"I've got more!" Nosaj said, grabbing his chain. David reached up and grabbed Nosaj's hand.

"Stop. This has gone far enough. The captain won. The battle's over. You need to tend to Alakazam and Gengar."

Nosaj drew his tomahawk. "I'm going to tend to this knave first." He started menacingly towards the captain but David grabbed him by the arm. "Unhand me!"

"Stop, I say! Stop!" David said. He moved in front of Nosaj. "You are a prince now, Nosaj. You cannot act like some buffoon. You lost. And that's that. Now grow up."

Nosaj glared at David angrily and looked for a moment like he was going to strike him, but then he burst into laughter. "You're right, you codpiece. I think I just need a drink."

"Good. Let's go get a drink."

Nosaj threw his arm around David. "What would I do without you, old pal?"

They walked off the tourney grounds leaving Sir Henry Fort smiling with his arms folded over his chest and his Toxicroak standing next to him, bulbous throat pulsating.

That night, David heard a rapping at his door. He was sitting at his desk going over parchments. "Enter," he called. The door opened and King Jaegon stepped inside wearing scarlet robes. He wasn't wearing his crown and he walked straight over to David's bed and sat down. "Your Highness?"

"Forgive me. I hope you weren't busy," the king said.

"I'm never too busy for my king," David said, rising from his seat.

King Jageon waved his hand. "Sit back down. I'm here as an old friend, not as a king."

David sat back down. The king's face looked pained and his arms were crossed over his chest. "Is something ailing you?"

The king sighed. "I fear I have used you under false pretenses."

"Sire?"

"I never meant for it to be this way, but there is no other way. Nosaj cannot rule."

"What are you saying, Your Highness?"

"I had you bring my son back from Dawnstar so that I could name him heir to Vvarden Mour."

David looked incredulous. "But, Your Majesty, your son has taken a vow to the church. A vow that cannot be broken. And the princess has already-"

"Don't lecture me on things I already know, Sir David. I'm well aware of what I have said and done. And I'm well aware that I allowed my daughter to marry Nosaj."

"Did he do something to provoke this change of heart?"

"My heart was never set, David. My son must inherit the throne."

"But why? This is not the way of things, Your Highness. It will not go over well with the commons or with Nosaj. Have you thought of that, even?"

"Of course I have."

"The commons love Nosaj. They support his claim to the throne. And what will the princess say? I cannot support you in this."

"Then you'll stand against me?"

The king stared at David with cold eyes. David took a deep breath. "I would never stand against my king."

"If you do not support me, than you are standing against me."

"What would you have me do? I'm only thinking of the interest of the people of Vvarden Mour."

"And you think that I am not? Do you think I have only selfish reasons for keeping Nosaj off the throne?"

"I beg of you, Your Highness, tell me the reasons."

The king sat up. "Nosaj will join with the king of Byra-Dul and wage war with my uncle in Ommachun."

"Nosaj cares nothing about the gods. How can you know this?"

"Don't you see, Sir David? This war is not about the gods. It is about power."

"Your uncle wouldn't say so."

"Have you spoken to him? Has anyone even seen him in twenty years?"

David lowered his head. "You think he might be dead?"

"It's a possibility. To think that he has survived this long would be a miracle."

"You think that someone else is holding the God Rebel's leash?"

The king shrugged. "I'm not sure, but one way or the other I know that Nosaj will join with him. He is young and eager for war, like the king of Byra-Dul. He will think that he is doing it for the good of Vvarden Mour. He might even think that he is doing it for the good of all Rezium. But he is wrong. War is good for neither side. The winner or the loser. Because war might benefit the rich, but it destroys the poor. Nothing is worth fighting for but freedom, and this war is not one of freedom."

"Freedom for religious tolerance. I lived in Ommachun as a boy and I watched a man burned on the stake for speaking out against the church. It was a horrible thing. I can still smell him burning at nights. Perhaps your uncle fights under a true flag," David said.

The king scoffed. "Now he's convinced you as well. You all are too young to understand and my uncle is too caught up in this blood rage to see it all clearly."

David sat forward. "Your Highness, I might still be young in the eyes of some, but I have seen my share of wars and I have experienced my share of loss. I have traveled the lengths of Welgium and I have seen the destitute. I know what wars cause. But I know that by attempting to stop one, you will be starting another."

"How do you mean?"

"Do you think that Nosaj will not raise up against you if you deny him his right to the throne?"

"The right goes to my firstborn son."

"Unless he swears an oath to the church, which he has done. This takes him out of the line of succession. Your daughter has taken a husband and that immediately makes Nosaj and his line the new bloodline of Vvarden Mour. It has always been this way."

"So the Snowcregg's are to die out, then?"

"Is that what this is all about?"

The king shook his head. "No. This is about what is best for my country and my people."

"Then keep Nosaj in the line of succession and your country will be better for it."

"No. He is too rash. He is too violent. He cannot be king."

David crossed the room and sat next to the king. "Jaegon," he said, taking his hand, "you must hear me. As the son that you didn't have and a father that wasn't mine, please don't do this. Father, I'm begging you."

The king smiled. "I wish that you were my son, David. But the gods did not grant me such a son as you."

"Your son is a good man. He just chose a path of service instead of a path of leadership. That does not make him less of a man."

"And Nosaj?"

"He is a true Norg. He is a man of the commons. He is a man who keeps with the tradition of Vvarden Mour. I beg of you, do not deny him his right."

The king smiled and stood up. "As a king, I have the power to change the line of succession in such a case as this. It is _my_ right." He looked back at David, his eyes bright. "I could add you to the line of succession and you could take my place upon the ice throne."

David nearly fell off the bed. "Y-your Highness," he stammered, "you can't be serious."

The king rushed forward and grabbed David by both arms. "You are the son I should've had. You are a true diplomat. You are a humanitarian, like I am. This is your destiny. If you were to accept this than maybe everything would be different and it wouldn't have to be the way that it is going to… because you would see as we see and you would go along."

David raised a curious eyebrow. "Your Highness, I don't understand what you are referring to."

Jaegon shook his head. "Never mind that. This _is_ your destiny."

"No, no. It isn't, Your Majesty. I… I can't."

"You can't… or you won't?"

David sighed. "I won't."

"You do not wish to sit the throne? The king's power stretches far, my boy."

"I do not wish for that power. Nor the responsibility. I am a simple man, Your Highness. I want only to live a long peaceful life and to die quietly. I do not wish to be remembered or to leave a mark of any kind. I just want to live my life here on earth and then let the gods decide what to do with my soul."

The king smiled. "This is why you would be the best choice for Vvarden Mour's throne."

"Forgive me, Your Highness. But I cannot accept this gift. Please, bestow it instead upon Nosaj-"

"Damn you and your honorable ways. Damn your honor. Damn it straight to the void. And damn your conscience as well. You disappoint me, Sir David."

David knelt down in front of the king. "Please forgive your humble servant. I meant no offense."

The king groaned. "For the love of the gods, boy. Get up." He leaned down and picked David up to his feet. "I am not angry with you. I am merely disappointed."

"I wish I could remedy that, Your Highness."

"Well you won't, as you said. Fine." The king turned and started towards the door. Just before he walked out, David called to him.

"Which will it be, Your Majesty? If I may be so bold as to ask."

The king glanced back over his shoulder, and then walked out without saying a word.

The white forest was a vast wilderness of evergreens and blotches of snow that had fallen from the extending limbs. David had walked here often. He liked the serenity of nature and the quietness of the forest. In the distance he heard snow fall from a cedar and plop onto the hard ground. He made his way into a small, green meadow that seemed to be untouched by winter's grasp. The leaves here were green and there was a pond with crystal clear water. Rising from the side of the pond was a great white oak with red leaves that stretched out over the meadow. There was a face in the oak that yawned as David approached.

"The wind told me that you were knighted now," the white oak tree said. He made his way over and hunkered down in front of it. "It tells tales of a coming storm as well."

"It is this storm that I've come to speak to you of," David said.

The white oak smiled. "It has been two decades since you've sought my counsel."

"Forgive my absence. I've-"

"Been away on king's duty. Do not explain yourself to me, Man. There is nothing that I don't know and there is few that I haven't seen. I am not blind as men are. I am rooted deep within the earth and yet I've seen farther than any."

David turned to the tree. "Tell me of the king."

"He is a sad man who has reached the end of his road."

"Is he dying?"

"Yes, but not in the sense that you mean. Times are soon to change, Man. Times are coming that will rock the foundations of even my deepest roots."

"Because he doesn't give the crown to Nosaj?"

"Nosaj? What is that? I do not speak in terms of man. Do not speak to me of men. I care not of their ways."

"You said that the king is sad."

"The king is not a man but a king. He has allowed me to stay here for this long while so many others have tried to uproot me. For this, I will speak of him."

"But you won't tell me what is needed to save him?"

"Save him? What makes you think that he needs saving?"

"You spoke of chaos."

"Chaos. Yes… chaos."

David stood up and faced the white tree. "You must tell me what is to happen. I feel something deep within me. Something that is growing in my gut and it leaves a bad taste in my mouth. What is happening here?"

The white tree smiled. "These things are but dust in the wind. When an acorn falls from my branches I do not think of it as chaos."

"But man is small and to us an acorn fall is catastrophic."

"Because man is weak and foolhardy. They think they know everything."

"You are the same," David said with a hint of loathing.

"You do not like speaking to me, do you Man?"

David lowered his eyes. "No."

"But you need my council."

"Yes. So please give it to me so that I may be on my way."

"Do not demand things of me. I am not a puppet in this show."

"And neither am I. And neither is the king. I care about these people and yet you speak of them as if they are nothing. What are you? You sit here for thousands of years mocking man and yet what have you done to prevent or to alter the action of man? If anything, you should be thanking man that we haven't cut you down."

The white tree laughed. "Cut me down? No, I could not be so lucky."

"If you aren't going to tell me what I need to know, then I will leave."

"What you need to know, or what you want to know?"

"Enough with the riddles."

"It is a simple question. Because what a man needs and what a man wants are two very different things. If a man needs something, it means that he would surely die without it. If a man wants something, he will surely live without it. Which is it? Will you die without what you seek?"

"I do not come on my behalf. My life doesn't mean anything. I come for the good of the realm."

"The good of the realm. That's a laugh."

David turned and stormed off.

"Wait," the white tree called. David stopped. The white tree sighed. "Listen. I will tell you this, and nothing more. There are greater forces at work here that will not allow me to speak beyond this measure." David turned and faced the tree. "In my dreams I've seen a dragon that comes from a land of yellow plains and rolling hills. It swoops down and devours all that rest in its path. It comes to melt the ice from this land with fire and stone and steel. I have seen an open gate and none that stand against it. I have seen a ram that drinks from a lake that is not of its own, somewhere far away. Somewhere that a ram shouldn't be. Two rams, shouldn't be. In my dream the sky is black and starless from smoke and ash. I've seen blood upon a stolen crown. A man running through the wilderness. A woman crying. A hair plucked from an arm of a man… nay, a god. A man risen from the dead. Eyes cold like ice. There is nothing in those eyes but blood. He will seek it, and you will not know. Puppets playing in a show of greater cause, I see. Something where there is no puppeteer. Yes… puppets with no puppeteer. This is all I know."

"What does it mean?"

The white tree's face looked almost sorrowful. "I do not know, Man. But I fear it."

"You don't have emotions. How can you fear?"

"I may not feel, but I can sense. And my senses tell me that my spirit is soon to expire. My punishment is almost complete."

"Are you saying that you will return to the void?"

"Yes… do not seek me again. I will be gone."

David looked down. "I… I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything, Man."

"For years I've been speaking with you. Since I was a boy." David looked up. "Will we meet again?"

"No. Never again. This is why I know that the storm that is coming and the dragon that brings it will wipe all things clean. This is why I fear, Man."

David chuckled. "Can you not call me David? If only once."

The white tree smiled. "I could never call you by your name in my awakened state. Only in my dreams, Man. Only there do you exist now."

"I shall miss you. Even if you are a pompous ass."

"And I shall miss you as well. Even if you are a mortal."

The two stared at each other for a moment, smiles fading and then David turned and disappeared into the wilderness. The white tree watched for some time and then closed its eyes and gave up its ghost.

There was three days before the king of Byra-Dul was supposed to arrive, and David helped Chancellor Bruce and Sir Walter Briley overseeing the preparations for the king's arrival. The chancellor was a tall man that wore dark robes and was probably the oldest man that David knew. He wore a heavy gold chain about his neck with a symbol of his office in the center, a rose. Sir Walter was a much younger man that spoke quickly and used his hands a lot when he spoke and had a twirled mustache and pointed beard. He was a loose man and very effeminate.

The chambers that were set aside for the king were completely restored. The old bed sheets were tossed away and new ones were brought in. The drapes were dusted and the floor was scrubbed and fresh rushes were laid about. The king ordered that several of his finest tapestries be brought into the room for some extra light. Sir Walter redecorated the main hall as well with new chairs and a new rug. He had the servants and maids scrub all the floors and tables and to clean out the garderobe, a grotesque task, and all of the ovens and hearths were scrubbed clean of soot and ash. There was to be a great feast prepared as well but when Sir Walter asked the king what sort of foods he wanted served, he seemed disinterested.

"I couldn't get His Majesty to speak on the matter," Sir Walter told David.

"We shall roast the finest pheasants and geese. I know that the young king favors foul. Also, plenty of potatoes and beets. Have the cook make a stew."

"Of course, Your Grace." Sir Walter was jotting this down on a notepad that he carried on his belt.

"Do we have plenty of butter and vinegar?" David asked.

"I believe we do, but I shall check. If not, I will get one of the maids to churn some immediately."

"Pickle some cucumbers and roast onions for the beef. He likes his beef cooked in a stew as well, so use a cauldron. He drinks white wine with honey and he will want plenty of black bread."

"Yes, Your Grace," Sir Walter said. "Anything else?"

"He normally brings with him several mistresses. Make sure there are plenty of rooms set aside close to his to house them. They are to be treated like princesses. He lavishes them with much gold and they are very finicky."

"Of course, Your Grace."

"Where do you intend to serve his men?"

"We can seat most of the gentry in the great hall but the others we will move to the lesser hall. I've also told Sir Henry to construct a tent outside the great hall for the guards to eat under and assigned specific servants to fit all of their needs. I have also hired bards and fools to entertain the king, as well as ordered the players to pick out their best piece."

"Which is?"

"Why, _For Whom All Things Are Red_ , of course."

"That'll do."

"Furthermore, I've arranged a tourney for after the feasting to give the king some further entertainment. I've contacted several of the surrounding cities and they've vowed to send their best knights to compete. Prince Nosaj will want to join the ranks, no doubt."

David sighed. "I'm sure he will."

"It'll be a good sign, ambassador. To show off his skill on horseback and with a lance. He is a good rider."

"Very good, Sir Walter. You've done well."

Sir Walter nodded and hurried away. "Much to do!" he said as he left.

David left the main hall and made his way down the corridor and into the arena. Princess Azra was there with her Weavile and Chimecho, a floating daemon that resembled a chime with alternating red and light blue coloring. She was dressed in a white gown of silk and Nosaj was sitting close by, leaning against one of the pillars and sipping mead from his mug. His mewtwo was throwing spheres of aura at a target and his Gengar and Alakazam were sparring. David watched as the two of them hurled attacks back and forth at one another, purposely missing so as not to cause damage. Alakazam's jaws were bandaged from where they'd been broken by Sir Henry Fort's Toxicroak.

"Training, are we?" David asked as he entered the room. His voice echoed in the massive chamber.

"I figured the king of Byra-Dul would want to see some daemon battling, so I intend to show those Dulians what I can do," Azra said. "I'm getting little Weavile ready." The Weavile nodded its cat-like head and hissed.

"And you, Nosaj?"

Nosaj scoffed. "Me? I don't care about the king of Byra-Dul. I train my daemons every day. I'm going to beat Henry Fort."

"My darling gets his feelings hurt easily," Azra said, smiling.

"Quiet. My feelings aren't hurt."

Azra laughed. "You can be such a woman sometimes."

"I'll show you woman when I break my boot off in your hind-end," he said. She giggled and rushed over to him. She leapt into his lap and they kissed. David smiled.

"Sir Walter is overdoing himself with the preparations. I think it's going to be as extravagant as your wedding was," David said.

"Ugh, that was the worst day of my life," Nosaj said, grinning.

Azra slapped him playfully. "Shut up, you big oaf."

David walked over to the Alakazam. When the two daemons saw him approaching they stopped sparring and stood at attention. David leaned down and touched the Alakazam's broken snout. He could see a purple bruise through the orange fur. "How are you feeling?" he cooed to the daemon.

"She's bitter, I'm sure," Nosaj said. "She wants revenge."

"No, you want revenge. She shouldn't even be sparring. Her snout haven't had enough time to heal."

"Daemons heal much faster than humans, David. Surely an educated man like yourself knows that."

David smiled. "Sure I do. I'm just saying, for Alakazam's sake."

"Alakazam is fine. She's a tough one. She can take anything that comes her way. Isn't that right?" he called to her. The Alakazam nodded and went back to sparring with the Gengar.

"Well, I suppose if she thinks she can go on."

"Of course she can. She's a warrior like her master," Nosaj said.

"Her master is a prince and should remember his place."

Nosaj shrugged. "Titles. Blah. Who needs them? The king is in good health and I don't see him croaking any time soon. Which leaves me with plenty of time for boozing and training my daemons. What more could a man ask for?"

"I'll leave the two of you be," David said as he turned to leave.

"You're welcome to train in here with us if you want," Nosaj said.

"No, thank you. I believe I'm going to go out on the balcony for a bit."

Sir David Woeth leaned out over the balcony and stared out into the darkness at the snowy white world below. His Flygon was perched on the stone railing and letting the wind run through its long green hair. It's big, bug-like red eyes glistening in the starlight. David patted the dragon daemon's back. "Something's not right here," he said to it. The daemon turned its head to the sound of his voice. "I don't know what it is, but I can feel it." The daemon flapped its wings so quickly that you couldn't even see them and it flew out into the darkness. David watched it fly for some time, dodging the falling snow and zipping through the air, it's long green tail trailing behind it. The sound of its wings fluttering was like that of a woman singing softly. In ancient times, Flygon were called The Spirit of the Desert because of the sound that its wings made. "You've been far from home for a long time, haven't you?" he said softly to it as if flew around, hovering above him. "Do you miss the golden sand? Do you miss the sun?" The dragon daemon hovered there, staring down at him. Then after a moment it lowered back to the balcony and nuzzled up next to David, rubbing its head up under his arms. He could feel it shivering. "It's very cold here," he told it. "I'm sorry." Behind him, Zangoose and Mawile were hissing at one another. Lucario was sitting on the edge of the balcony letting his feet dangle off the end. He was quiet and calm as always. David looked up and saw his Salamence flying across the moon. Tyranitar was asleep on the ground beside him, snoring loudly. He hugged Flygon close to him. "I'm afraid, my friends," he said. Zangoose and Mawile walked over to the sound of his voice. They looked up at him with eyes of longing. Tyranitar opened its dark eyes and gazed upwards.

"I'm afraid," he repeated.


End file.
